Retrograde Dusty
by MildlyInsane
Summary: After falling off Freckles, yet again, Dusty is stricken with amnesia. Mr. Callahan finds him wandering out in the woods and takes care of him through a violent rain storm. With the aid of Lulu, Betsy, Andy, and the Brookhavens, Mr. Callahan helps Dusty remember his former life.
1. Dusty, Who?

**Retrograde Dusty**

 **Summary: After falling off Freckles, yet again, Dusty is stricken with amnesia. Mr. Callahan finds him wandering out in the woods and takes care of him through a violent rain storm. With the aid of Lulu, Betsy, Andy, and the Brookhavens Mr. Callahan helps Dusty remember his former life.**

* * *

 _ **I watched most of this series about four years ago when I was writing my Gilligan's Island stories (one of which I never finished... Sorry to anyone who was reading it... My life got flipped turned upside down, and I just lost my motivation on that one.) But I'll finish this one. I swear. In fact, it's all already written. I just need to publish it, one chapter at a time.**_

 _ **At any rate, I've been re-watching episodes of this show lately, and remembered how much I love it. It's a really cute little series, and I'm sorta sad it's basically lost to time. I can't even find six of the episodes at all, anywhere... (If anyone can tell me, by the way, via PM or review, where these episodes can be viewed, I'll forever be in your debt: "Two of a Kind", "Danger Stranger", "How Dry Was My Valley", "From Here to Maternity", "Day at the Races", "Pechango Berries") I simply cannot find them...**_

 _ **Anyway, I wrote this little story, about Dusty falling off Freckles and as a result, coming down with a wicked case of amnesia and about Mr. Callahan finding him and trying to help him recall his memories. Dusty and Callahan are the main characters, and the only characters in the first several chapters, but all the others make an appearance eventually, some getting bigger roles than others. This story was inspired by the Wizard of Ooze episode, where Dusty falls off Freckles and gets amnesia, but rather than focusing on any bit of dire information Dusty needs to recall to save anyone, it's just going to focus on Dusty's relationships with all the other characters, primarily his relationship with Mr. Callahan. It's very much a Dusty/Mr. Callahan friendship story, and Mr. Callahan is very much a father figure to Dusty in this. Very, very much. It's a huge theme in here.**_

 _ **I hope someone out there reads this... I know only about seventeen people on the entire earth have even seen this show... But seriously... I'm a little bit proud of this story, and I really hope someone actually reads it. He he he...**_

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 _ **Chapter1**_

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Dusty groaned and brought his hand up to his forehead as his eyes slowly fluttered open. Above himself, he saw various criss-crossing tree branches swaying lightly in the breeze, and beyond those, he saw large, dark clouds slowly rolling across the sky. That meant he was lying on the ground, for some reason, outside, and unfortunately, it looked like it was going to be stormy pretty soon.

For a moment, Dusty just lay there, un-moving, staring up at the heavy clouds slowly drifting by behind the tree branches. He wondered if those clouds might do him the courtesy of holding off their rain until his mind put itself back together. As it was, Dusty couldn't even think of where he needed to go to avoid this storm. Did he live around here? And where was 'here' anyway?

He felt so confused. He didn't know where he was or what had happened to him. Why he was lying on the ground right now was a mystery. He just knew that his head hurt, his arm hurt, his ankle hurt, and, well, pretty much all of him did. He felt like he'd fallen off a horse or something. But did he even have a horse? Did he even know how to ride one? He couldn't remember. Why was he out in the woods? Did he live nearby, or was he camping in the area? He couldn't say for sure. Come to think of it, he couldn't really even say what his own name was.

Frowning, Dusty sat up, still rubbing his aching temple with his finger-tips. He had a headache out of this world. Under his fingers, he felt crusted, dried blood as well as a small bump. That explained the headache, and maybe why he couldn't remember anything too. He must have hit his head on something. Or maybe someone else had hit him...

Shrinking down a bit, Dusty looked cautiously around the clearing he found himself in. Had he gotten into a fight with someone? Or maybe he'd been attacked by some animal, a bear, a wild dog... or... maybe even a lion... Did lions live around here? It could have been anything! Not being able to remember how he'd ended up here was alarming. All he knew was that he was out in the woods, by himself, and he was hurt. What if someone had done this to him? What if they came back to finish the job?

Dragging himself to his feet, Dusty looked around the clearing. There was no sign that any one way was the correct way he needed to go to sort this mess out. He didn't know if he lived near here, or if he had merely been passing through. Maybe he'd been kidnapped by land-pirates and they accidentally dropped him off their land-boats. Perhaps he didn't live near here at all. Perhaps he had nowhere to go...

With a small whimper, Dusty shrunk down and glanced around himself again. What was he supposed to do? Walking one way might result in getting himself even further from wherever he was supposed to be, but staying still would certainly not get him anywhere. Why couldn't he remember anything?

He felt like he was beginning to panic. Dusty's breathing was becoming frantic, coming in short, quick breaths as he continued looking around the clearing. Finally, he just decided to start walking. Surely he'd find a town or something, or a house, hopefully belonging to someone friendly and not a land-pirate.

As soon as he took a step, Dusty cried out and stumbled forward, landing on his knees, and then his hands, which caused him to cry out again as he let himself fall down the rest of the way so that he was completely on the ground again, face-down this time. His ankle hurt when he put pressure on it, and his wrist hurt very much more than his ankle when he'd caught himself.

Holding back tears, Dusty dragged himself to his feet again, cradling his injured arm in his other hand and taking his steps more carefully. His ankle hurt every time he took a step, but it didn't seem to be broken. His wrist may have been though. He could still walk, even though it wasn't as comfortable as he would have liked, but his wrist throbbed enough to bring tears to his eyes now that he'd put so much of his weight on it.

He limped onward, still not sure where he was even going. He hoped he'd find a town soon, because he wasn't sure how long he could go on walking aimlessly before he started to really panic. The dark storm clouds looming above him were making him pretty nervous too.

Dusty's ears perked up and his eyes widened when he heard the sound of a horse's hooves approaching, accompanied by someone yelling something.

"Dusty!" the voice called out. It was getting closer, "Where are you?!"

Dusty felt his eyes grow wider as he looked around, trying to spot the source of the voice. It sounded like a man, and it sounded like he was looking for someone called Dusty. Was that him? If so, why was this guy looking for him? Was this the guy who had hit him? Was he coming back to finish him off?

Looking frantically around the area, Dusty searched for a place to hide. There were no large bushes and the tree trunks weren't very thick. Nevertheless, he dodged behind a tree, probably not hiding himself very well at all, but it was better than nothing. He held perfectly still as the person drew nearer.

"Dusty?" the voice continued as the person made his way into Dusty's line of vision. It was indeed a man, a large, strong looking fellow. He looked to be in his fifties, Dusty would guess, but also looked like he'd have no trouble winning a fight. The man was sitting on a beautiful horse which had dark freckles all over its fur. If Dusty hadn't been so scared, he would have taken a minute to admire how pretty the horse was. But at the moment, all he knew was that he was terrified of who this person might be, and of why he might be looking for him, if Dusty was even his name...

Still behind the tree, but peeking out just enough to watch the mysterious man, Dusty tried to keep himself calm. It seemed like he hadn't been spotted just yet.

The man on the horse continued looking around the clearing. "You gotta be around here somewhere, little pal," he murmured, almost to himself.

Dusty continued standing still behind the tree, until it seemed like the horse-rider looked right at him. He felt his eyes grow wide as he sucked in a panicked breath, but he didn't dare move. Maybe he hadn't really been spotted. Perhaps it only seemed that way. Dusty held his breath as he stared at the man.

"Dusty?" the large man jumped off the horse, which immediately ran off just as soon as its rider landed on the ground. But the guy didn't bother going after it. His focus was entirely on Dusty as he narrowed his eyes and took a step toward the younger man. "What are you doing out here?" the man wondered.

Shaking his head very slightly, Dusty continued staring at him. He wasn't sure what to say or do. Who was this guy? And why was he looking for him? He didn't look particularly mean, but Dusty knew looks could be deceiving. He didn't know this man, nor did he know his intentions. He couldn't just trust that this guy didn't mean to hurt him just because he looked friendly. After all, Dusty had woken up with several pretty harsh injuries, and this large man was the only other person around. Maybe this guy had tried to kill him already, had failed, and had now come back to finish him off...

"You alright?" the stranger asked, taking another step forward.

Dusty didn't answer. Instead, he turned and ran as fast as he could...

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	2. Friend or Foe?

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 _ **Chapter2**_

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As soon as Mr. Callahan spotted Dusty in a clearing in the trees it was apparent that something was wrong. The younger man looked terrified, hiding behind a tree, and not very well either, as he stared at Callahan with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. He looked a bit disheveled too, as he seemed to have dirt on his pants, his hair was messed up, and he was lacking his hat, which he would ordinarily never leave behind.

It didn't take but a few seconds of awkward staring before the young scout immediately began to run away from the wagon-master. Callahan couldn't help but wonder why... Had the boy done something wrong? Was he scared that the older man would be angry with him for some reason?

Honestly, Mr. Callahan was just happy to have found the scout alive and well, and could think of no reason to be upset with him. When Freckles had run into their camp without a rider, cold fear and dread had filled the wagon-master's heart. He'd grabbed the horse and took off to find his friend without even first alerting the others. Ordinarily he'd have told someone where he was going, or maybe even taken Andy along with him. But not this time. Without a second thought, he'd jumped up onto Freckles and began his search alone. That's how worried he was.

Dusty was a clumsy kid, and Freckles was still a bit wild. Naturally, Dusty had quite a few accidents relating to the horse. He'd fall off Freckles all the time, and in the process would often end up bruised and scratched. Occasionally he'd break a bone or sprain an ankle or wrist, and very few times he'd even end up unconscious. This wasn't the first time Mr. Callahan had had to go off and search the area for his missing friend after his horse had shown up at camp without him.

In the past, Mr. Callahan tried often to convince the boy to be more careful, to not ride fast when he was alone, to hold onto the reins tighter, to always watch in front of himself for low branches, or to just take a different horse when he was scouting by himself, but Dusty simply wouldn't listen. No matter how many times he fell off Freckles and got himself hurt, he was loyal to that horse and wouldn't even think of riding another one. After all, it wasn't necessarily the horse's fault that Dusty fell off of it so often. The issue was only barely due to the horse's unpredictability and largely due to Dusty's inability to keep balanced or to pay attention.

Maybe that would explain why Dusty was running away from Mr. Callahan now. Maybe he expected the older man to be angry that he'd fallen off his horse yet again, even after Callahan's numerous warnings and advice.

"Dusty!" the wagon-master called after the kid as he chased him.

The younger man kept running, occasionally looking worriedly over his shoulder at Callahan, who was slowly gaining on him. "Get away, land pirate!" he called in a shaking, panicked voice as he continued running, with what Callahan noted was a slight limp. He must have hurt his leg when he fell off the horse.

Callahan frowned at that strange remark, and at the fact that the boy was running away from him, when it was quite obvious that the wagon-master wanted to speak to him. It was extremely rare for Dusty to avoid Mr. Callahan, and even more rare for him to purposefully run away from the older man. Mr. Callahan quickened his pace. He was almost close enough to catch his friend by now, as Dusty's limping made the ordinary jack-rabbit fast scout slower than normal. He didn't know why Dusty was running from him, but he was sure going to find out.

It wasn't long before the wagon-master was close enough to reach out and grab the kid, and he did just that, gripping at the boy's upper arms and pulling him backward. Unfortunately, Dusty wasn't going down without a fight. As soon as Callahan grabbed him, Dusty attempted to dodge out of his grip, quickly twisting his body around, and in doing so, he tripped up and brought both himself and his wagon-master to the ground in an uncomfortable heap of limbs.

Dusty cried out a pained, frightened-sounding whimper as he was brought to the ground in what was unfortunately a rather rough tackle. Mr. Callahan had not at all intended on actually tackling the younger man, but Dusty's quick dodging movements had caused them both to trip. That mixed with the fact that they had both been running ended with an inadvertent tackle of sorts. Now the wagon-master was practically on top of the smaller man, who struggled wildly to escape, pushing his hands against Callahan's torso, attempting to crawl back away from him, and thrashing his arms and legs this way and that, doing whatever he could to keep the older man from grabbing into his limbs.

Callahan now hovered over Dusty, who lay on his back against the dry dirt ground, staring up at the older man with huge, worried eyes. "Let me go!" Dusty screamed in a frantic voice as he continued to attempt to wriggle out from under Callahan, who was still trying to get a better hold on him. Dusty pushed his hand against Callahan's chest, but the wagon-master refused to budge. He needed to know why Dusty was behaving so strangely. If the younger man had done something wrong, Callahan needed to know about it.

"Dusty, hold still!" Callahan demanded as he grabbed at one of Dusty's flailing arms, finally snatching the limb in his hand and gripping it gently, but firmly. He held his other hand over Dusty's chest, holding him down so he wouldn't be able to jump up and run off again. He could feel under his hand that Dusty's heart was pounding a mile a minute as the boy continued to fight against him. "Dusty, calm down," Callahan ordered. "I'm not upset with you," he promised, now out of breath from having chased Dusty and from having to fight to keep him on the ground. "Why you running from me?"

Dusty shook his head and continued to struggle, frantically pushing against Callahan's chest with one hand and tugging uselessly at his other arm, which was still in the wagon-master's grip. He continued to squirm nervously under the larger man. Mr. Callahan could see tears starting to form in Dusty's eyes as the younger man struggled against him, but the boy didn't speak.

"Dusty, what's wrong?" Mr. Callahan frowned, "Are you hurt?"

The boy simply breathed in and out shaking, pained breaths, but still said nothing as he pushed his hand against Mr. Callahan's chest again in an attempt to shove the larger man off him. He looked confused and scared, and even winced now and then as he struggled, as if the mere act of moving his limbs was causing him pain.

"Dusty?" Mr. Callahan was really beginning to feel worried now. "You gotta talk to me, little pal..."

For a moment, Dusty simply stared up at the other man, with wide, wet eyes, before finally saying something. "Get off me!" Dusty pleaded in a small voice as he tugged at his wrist again, whimpering again as he did so, and as more tears filled his eyes. "I don't wanna fight you," he shook his head as he spoke, "I don't want to have anything to do with land-pirates... I just want to go home..." he nearly sobbed as he choked out these confusing pleas.

Slowly, Mr. Callahan eased up, loosening his grip on the younger man, but not enough so that he could escape. It worried him that Dusty was wincing and that he looked so frightened. Mr. Callahan was doing his very best to make sure his grip didn't hurt his friend, but Dusty seemed to be in pain anyway, and certainly seemed scared. Why would he think Callahan wanted to fight him? Callahan didn't even know if he should ask what Dusty was referring to when he mentioned 'land-pirates.'

Still holding onto Dusty in the most gentle way possible without allowing him to escape, Callahan continued in his attempt to understand what his young friend was so upset about. "You afraid of me, little pal?" He frowned, "I ain't gonna hurt you... You know that..."

"I do?" Dusty finally seemed to be calming down as he spoke in a small, uncertain voice. He stopped fighting and shrunk down, still looking quite nervous.

"Sure," Callahan furrowed his brow. "You know I'd never hurt you... Why were you running from me? Dusty, I was very worried about you... I don't care what you did that has you thinking I'm upset with you. Whatever it was, I'm sure it's nothing to be this worried over. I won't be mad, and even if I were, I wouldn't want to fight you over it... All I care about is that you're okay. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

Dusty stared at him with wide eyes and a perplexed expression on his face. "I fell?" He frowned, still looking up with huge, questioning eyes as he seemed to be searching Callahan's face for something.

"Yeah, little pal," Mr. Callahan pulled the younger man up into a sitting position, but kept his hands on the boy's arms, both to keep him steady as well as to ensure he didn't freak out and run off again. "I mean, I didn't see you fall, but I imagine you did. Freckles came running into camp, and you weren't on 'im."

"Freckles?" Dusty looked lost. "Camp?"

"Yeah..." Callahan narrowed his eyes and looked Dusty over. The kid seemed to be confused most of the time, but this was even worse than usual, "Dusty, are you alright?"

"Dusty?" the scout frowned. "Is that me?"

Callahan shook his head very slightly in confusion. "Yeah..." he started in a slow, confused voice as he knelt closer to his friend and looked him in the eyes. "Dusty, did you hit your head? You know who you are, don't you?"

Dusty shrugged, "I don't know what happened. I could have hit my head. I mean, it kinda hurts. As for if I know who I am... I'm guessing I'm Dusty..."

Mr. Callahan sighed. It seemed like his friend had some sort of amnesia. He didn't seem to know his own name, or how he'd ended up out here. He didn't know Freckles, and didn't seem to know Mr. Callahan either. That would explain why he seemed so scared when Mr. Callahan approached him. He didn't know who the other man was.

"Let me have a look at you," Callahan offered. He bent closer to Dusty's face, as the younger man shrunk back very slightly but otherwise held still. It looked like there was a bruise and maybe some blood under Dusty's hair, on his forehead. Callahan slowly and carefully reached for the boy's face and brushed his hair to the side so he could see the injury. Just as he'd thought, a bruise was forming on the right side of the kid's temple, just over his eyebrow. Along with the bruise was a small cut, but the blood was dried, and looked like it had been running to the side of his face rather than down. That meant Dusty had spent at least some time lying on his back, likely unconscious after his fall.

"Am I gonna die?" Dusty wondered with a small pout.

"No," Mr. Callahan forced a smile as he patted his friend lightly on the shoulder, "you ain't gonna die, little pal. I'd guess Freckles, your horse, just ran you into a low branch again. Looks like you hit your head and fell off 'im."

"Again?" Dusty frowned, "Do I run into branches a lot?"

Callahan laughed, "Yes, Dusty. You do. Your horse is a little wild still, and you never pay attention to what's in front of you. The horse doesn't watch out for you, and you don't watch out for yourself. So naturally you get hurt a lot. You don't remember anything?" The wagon-master frowned as he looked into Dusty's wide eyes.

The kid shook his head, "No, sir."

"Are you hurt anywhere else, Dusty?" Callahan wondered, "I noticed you limping earlier."

"Oh..." Dusty looked down at his foot. "Yeah, I must have landed weird on my ankle. I don't think it's broken though. It doesn't hurt that bad. It was just a little painful to run on it. I don't even feel it now."

"Good," Callahan breathed out a sigh of relief. He was glad Dusty didn't have any broken bones this time. Having to deal with the younger man not even remembering his own name was issue enough.

"Think I broke my wrist though," Dusty added as an after thought as he shrugged.

Mr. Callahan felt his shoulders slump. Dusty may not have remembered who he was, but he was still acting just about the same as always. "Let me see," the wagon-master reached his hand out toward Dusty.

The boy hesitated, cradling his wrist in his other hand and looking apprehensively up at Mr. Callahan.

"Come on," Mr. Callahan urged. "I won't hurt you. I just want to see if I can fix your wrist. You want it fixed, right?"

Dusty nodded, but pouted. He didn't know Mr. Callahan right now. He didn't trust him. While the wagon-master understood this, it still broke his heart. He and Dusty had been close friends for years. On an ordinary day, he hoped Dusty would trust him with his life, because Mr. Callahan would honestly do anything possible to keep the younger man from harm.

"I just want to look," Mr. Callahan spoke again, moving his own hand, palm-up, an inch closer to Dusty.

The younger man finally reluctantly offered his hand to his friend, placing his trembling wrist in Callahan's hand, turning his face to the side, and squeezing his eyes shut.

Mr. Callahan did his best to ignore the fact that Dusty seemed so scared of him as he cautiously pushed the scout's sleeve up his slender arm and turned the limb over carefully in his hands. Dusty's wrist was indeed quite swollen, but it didn't look like too harsh of a break. In fact, when he ran his fingers gently over the boy's arm he found that it may have only been a sprain.

It only took a few moments of Callahan examining Dusty's arm with gentle hands before the boy was willing to open his eyes again. He watched with wide, uncertain eyes as the wagon-master ran his fingers carefully over his wrist. "Is it broken?" he wondered in a small, almost-shaking voice, grimacing as he asked, as he was likely scared of what the older man's answer might be.

"Well, Dusty," Callahan exhaled as he pulled Dusty's sleeve gently back over his wrist, "Good news is I really don't think it's broken. I'm pretty sure it's just a sprain, but we'll get Andy to look at it when we get back. Best I can do for now is wrap it, and ask that you try to keep from using it for a while."

Dusty nodded. "Okay," he agreed in a small voice. With a small gasp, the younger man shrunk down a bit and looked up toward the sky as a clap of thunder filled the air.

Mr. Callahan frowned and looked up at the sky too. The clouds were thick and grey. It was due to start raining at any moment, and it looked like this storm might be a big one. "Maybe we should be getting back to camp," Callahan suggested, standing up and offering his hand down to Dusty. "Don't want to get caught out here in the rain."

Dusty nodded, but still looked nervous as he took Callahan's hand with his own uninjured one and allowed the older man to pull him to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Dusty looked around himself apprehensively. "Where's camp?" he asked in a small voice.

Callahan looked down at him. He was obviously nervous, and understandably so. He'd woken up out in the woods with no memories, was tackled to the ground by the first person he'd met, and was now going to have to go into an unfamiliar camp and meet more people he wouldn't be sure if he could trust. Callahan patted Dusty's shoulder reassuringly, "I'll show you, little pal. And don't you worry. Everyone's really friendly."

As soon as they started walking, Dusty immediately winced and tripped over his own feet.

With ever-present quick reflexes, which he was used to putting to good use whenever he was around Dusty, Callahan reached out and caught his little friend before he could fall to the ground. "You alright there, Dusty?" Mr. Callahan wondered as he kept his hands on Dusty's arms, wanting to ensure he was steady on his feet before letting go.

Dusty nodded, and flinched again when another loud clap of thunder rang out. "I forgot that my ankle hurts," Dusty explained in an out-of-breath voice. "Is camp very far from here? I think it's starting to rain."

Callahan could feel that Dusty was trembling, as the wagon-master still had a firm grip on his arms from catching him a moment before. Dusty was always a bit scared of storms. At least he was still himself, even if he didn't know it. Unfortunately, Callahan couldn't give his young friend a very reassuring answer to his question, "Well, it took me about forty minutes, I'd guess, to ride out here and find you... And then when I jumped off Freckles to confront you, he ran off. Walking back might take a while."

Dusty shrunk down again, cowering against Callahan's chest as another loud boom filled the woods and rain started to pour down all around them.

Mr. Callahan frowned and put his arms around the kid's shoulders. "Maybe we should find a cave to take refuge in until the worst part of the storm passes," he suggested.

"Mmm hmmm," Dusty agreed with a small murmur as he hid his face in Callahan's shirt and continued trembling under the older man's hugging arms.

"Right," Callahan nodded. Keeping his arm around his little pal and shielding him as best as he could from the rain, he started toward a rockier part of the terrain, where he was sure there'd be a cave, if even just a small one.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Please review if you're reading this (and I know some people are... I looked at my traffic stats...) I'd love to know what you guys think...**_


	3. Like a Son

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 _ **Chapter3**_

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Dusty shivered as he sat against the back wall of the small cave he and the mystery man who'd recovered him from the forest had found. The rain was pounding down outside, which did nothing at all to make Dusty feel more at ease about this situation. He was beginning to trust the strange man in the cave with him now, but that didn't change the fact that he still felt lost. He didn't know where he fit into this world. He was confused, in a bit of pain, and very cold at the moment. And of course he felt scared, for many reasons. He didn't know his own life, nor did he know the people in it. He was frightened of disappointing people who expected him to know them. The storm outside only made him feel more scared.

Occasionally a flash of lighting filled the sky or the booming sound of thunder echoed through the land. Dusty couldn't help but to shrink down every time either of these things happened. He may not have remembered who he was or what he was like, but he knew he was scared of thunder and lightning. He wondered if he always had been...

He looked across the cave and watched his companion, who was still a stranger to him, though it seemed he wasn't supposed to be, working on trying to create a fire. Fortunately, a few dry branches were already in the cave when they had gotten here, and this guy appeared to be pretty good at starting a fire.

As he watched the older man, Dusty wondered who exactly he was. The guy seemed to know him, somehow, but hadn't ever really explained how. He wasn't dressed in anything fancy. In fact, he looked like someone who would work on a ranch or farm. Dusty glanced down at himself. He was dressed rather similarly. Did they work together? Did they live together?

Maybe they were father and son who lived on a horse ranch. Or maybe they were traveling salesmen, making their way from one place to another, and camping out along the way. The older man had mentioned something about a camp, and a man named Andy. He could be their co-worker. Or maybe Andy was Dusty's father, or uncle, or brother...

Dusty sort of hoped his profession was something special, something interesting, but maybe just working alongside someone as kind, caring, and gentle as this man was pretty special by itself. Maybe Dusty didn't remember who this guy was, but he certainly appreciated how kind the older man was treating him.

"How you doing over there, Dusty?" the man asked as he paced across the cave and knelt down in front of Dusty. He had a small fire going by now. It hadn't taken him long at all. Hopefully Dusty would warm up soon.

"I'm okay," Dusty tried to keep his teeth from chattering as he wrapped his arms around himself. They hadn't found the cave until they were already rather soaked by the rain, unfortunately, and by now Dusty was freezing cold.

"We're gonna have you warmed up in no-time, little pal," the stranger must have noticed Dusty's shivering. He put his hands lightly on Dusty's arms and looked into his eyes. "And I don't want you worried over anything," he added.

Dusty forced a smile. He couldn't help but feel nervous. How could he help being worried at a time like this?

His companion must have noticed his concern, "I mean it, Dusty. You've got no need to feel scared. The storm out there can't get you, and I just know you'll start remembering things soon. You'll be okay."

"Alright," Dusty continued with his forced smiling. He didn't honestly feel confident either of the things the other man had said were true. The storm really could get him. Lightning could strike and collapse the cave, or the rain could keep going forever and drown them. He also wasn't sure if he'd ever remember anything about himself. How could he even begin to piece his life together when he had nowhere to start from?

"I'd like to wrap your wrist with this, if you'll allow me," the man offered, holding up a somewhat ragged-looking scarf. "It might not really help all that much, but it's the best I can do. My medical knowledge is pretty limited."

"Okay," Dusty agreed, offering his wrist to the older man with much less reluctance than before. By now, he was fairly certain he could trust this man not to hurt him. Maybe he still didn't know who the guy was, but he knew he had been very gentle with Dusty thus far. There were probably very few people in the world who would be this patient and understanding.

"Now, I know you don't really seem to remember anything about yourself, and I don't want to nag you," the man began as he wrapped the scarf securely around Dusty's swollen wrist, "but I really wish you'd be more careful when riding that horse. Of course, you don't remember, but I've told you so many times to be careful. I hate seeing you hurt, Dusty, and if you'd just pay better attention when you're riding him, maybe you could avoid accidents like this..."

"Oh," Dusty frowned and looked down at the ground, "I'm sorry, sir... I'll try to be more careful... I don't even remember what happened."

"It's okay, Dusty," the stranger offered a small smile. "It's not all your fault. That horse isn't completely tame... I couldn't even keep him from bolting earlier. I think he sensed that the storm was coming and didn't want to still be around out in the woods when it started raining. Hopefully he made his way back to camp when he ran off."

"What did you say his name was?" Dusty wondered.

"Freckles," the older man smiled down at him.

"Oh," Dusty nodded. "That's a good name. Because of the freckles on his fur."

The other man laughed, "That's why you named him that."

"I named him?" Dusty raised his eyebrows.

"He's your horse," the stranger nodded. "You found him, and tamed him. Well, you tamed him as best as he could be tamed. He's still a bit wild, I'd say. But you love that horse, and I think he respects you too, to a certain extent. The problem is, he's still a little unpredictable, and you're a little... well, unpredictable too. The two of you work well together, until you both mess up simultaneously. I'm betting your accident happened when Freckles paid no mind to a low branch, while you weren't paying attention either."

Dusty nodded. That sounded very possible.

Whenever Dusty's unknown acquaintance finished wrapping his wrist, the larger man sat down next to him. He carefully put his arm around Dusty's shoulders, which instantly made him feel warmer.

"Sir?" Dusty spoke up, looking up at the larger man.

"Yeah, Dusty?" the older man glanced down at him.

"I hope this doesn't offend you," Dusty looked down, "but how do we know each other?" He hoped this man was someone he would get to spend a lot of time with, because he was really very nice, and made Dusty feel safe, even when the entire world seemed foreign and scary to him. Whenever he was completely lost, this man had been there for him, and was being very patient considering Dusty didn't remember anything about his own life. Maybe this guy could even be his father. That would be nice. Dusty could use a parental figure right about now. He felt so lost.

"We work together, Dusty," the man explained, "on a wagon train. I'm the wagon-master and you're my scout. We, along with five others, are making our way to California. We were part of a longer wagon train, but we got separated from the rest of the wagons. Now we're a little lost, but we'll get there eventually."

"We're lost? How did that happen?" Dusty frowned.

The man shrugged, "Don't worry about that, little pal. We'll make it to California. It doesn't matter how we got lost. What matters is that we're all going to stick together. Being lost isn't so bad when you're lost with your friends."

"Yeah," Dusty nodded with a grin. The other man was right. Being with friends made any sticky situation much more tolerable. Too bad Dusty couldn't remember any of his friends... "Are you and I related?" He wondered. How else would he have gotten a job working as a scout with this man? Considering he seemed to be so clumsy, falling off his horse often enough that this guy wasn't even surprised by it, they must have had some sort of relationship between them for Dusty to have gotten this job in the first place.

"No, we ain't related," the man shook his head, "but you're my friend, my little pal." He smiled.

Dusty frowned and felt his shoulders slump. He couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"What's wrong?" the older man wondered.

Dusty sighed, "Do I have any family? I thought maybe you were my father."

"Oh," the other man hesitated, offering a sympathetic frown. "Well, you're family's not out here with us. We're all a sort of mis-matched group of traveling companions. Only the Brookhavens are here together as family. But though we're not technically relatives, we've all become a sort of family over the months we've spent traveling together. Every one of us cares deeply for the next, and as long as you're traveling with the rest of us, you'll always be looked out for... and though I'm not your father, I certainly love you like a son."

"You do?" Dusty looked up at him, "Do I love you like a father?"

The older man laughed, "I don't know, Dusty. Only you would know that."

"Oh," Dusty frowned. He didn't know the answer to his own question. He couldn't remember how he felt about anyone. "Sir?" he asked again.

"Dusty, you don't need to call me that," the man frowned.

"What should I call you then?" Dusty wondered.

"I'm sorry, little pal," the man put his hand lightly on Dusty's chest, "I guess I didn't remind you of my name. You can call me Mr. Callahan. Or, that's what you usually call me. I guess you could call me John if you'd prefer."

"Okay, Mr. Callahan," Dusty smiled. Somehow calling him 'John' just didn't seem like it would be respectful. The guy seemed like an authority or parental figure, and Dusty just wouldn't feel right calling him by his first name.

"You warming up now, Dusty?" Mr. Callahan asked as he rubbed his hand over Dusty's arm, over his damp shirt sleeve.

"I guess so," Dusty still shivered slightly. "I'm a little warmer now."

"Good," Mr. Callahan looked out the cave's entrance where rain was still falling heavily. "We're lucky the cave's a bit elevated off the ground. Otherwise this rain might flood us out."

Dusty peered toward the cave's entrance as well. He hoped it didn't rain enough to flood the cave. Where would they go? Dusty wasn't sure if he knew how to swim or not... "Mr. Callahan, do you think I'm ever gonna remember who I am? Or am I just going to have to start all over again, re-learning everyone in our wagon train, and re-learning how to scout?"

"I'm sure it'll all come back to you eventually," Mr. Callahan assured him with a smile. "Hopefully sooner rather than later. Maybe just sleeping it off would help. Dusty, I honestly don't know. Once we get back to camp, we can ask Andy. He's very smart, and has read so many books. He's bound to know something."

"Oh, good," Dusty yawned and leaned his head against Mr. Callahan's shoulder. It wasn't until just now that he realized how tired he was. Maybe if he just shut his eyes for a moment and got a bit of sleep, he'd wake up and remember everything. He certainly hoped so...

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Please review. :)**_


	4. Everyone

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter4**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Mr. Callahan glanced down at his young friend, who was leaning heavily against his shoulder. The little fellow was breathing more evenly now, not shivering as much as he had been, and seemed much more at ease now that he was seemingly convinced Mr. Callahan had no ill intentions.

He certainly hoped Dusty would start remembering himself soon. It must have been horribly frustrating for the younger man to not know who he was or where he came from, not to mention entirely frightening, to wake up out in the woods with no memories. Maybe if Callahan reminded him of a few things, it would help jog his memory.

"You still awake, little pal?" Mr. Callahan whispered. He couldn't quite tell if Dusty's eyes were open or closed. He just knew the younger man was lying rather limply against him.

"Yeah," Dusty spoke in a tired voice. "I'm just resting my eyes."

"Would you like me to tell you a bit about our wagon-train? Maybe it'll help you remember," Mr. Callahan offered.

"Okay," Dusty breathed out tiredly.

"Well, like I said before," Callahan began, "there's just seven of us. Along with you and me, there's Andy, Mr. and Mrs. Brookhaven, Lulu, and Betsy."

"And Andy reads a lot of books," Dusty spoke up, reciting what he'd remembered Mr. Callahan already telling him, "and the Brookhavens are the only people who are related to each other."

"That's right," Callahan smiled. At least his little friend could remember what he was told in the recent past, even if he couldn't remember anything that had happened before this afternoon. "The Brookhavens are bankers," the older man continued, "and therefore have very expensive tastes. They can seem a little high-class compared with the rest of us. They don't like getting their hands dirty, but they're really very nice, caring folks, deep down."

Dusty nodded, "I hope I remember them before we get back to camp. They'll be very offended if I can't figure out which ones they are."

"Well, you'll know them when you see them, even if you don't remember," Callahan assured him. "They're older folks, and dressed much more nicely than the rest of us. Or at least, what they consider to be dressed nicely. I myself prefer something practical and comfortable. And so do you," he gestured down at Dusty's clothing.

The younger man nodded, "I don't really know myself, but I think you're right."

The wagon-master smiled slightly and continued his description of their traveling companions, "Andy, as I've said, reads a lot of books. He's a very smart man. Any time there's any issue that requires knowing some strange fact in order to get us out of trouble, he's the one to talk to. He knows which wild plants are edible, what different types of rocks can be used for... He knows just about everything. I don't know how he keeps it all straight in his head."

"How will I recognize him?" Dusty wondered.

"Well, for one, he's the only other man besides Mr. Brookhaven, and you and me. He's younger, but not as young as you. He dresses in a more practical way too."

"Okay," Dusty nodded, snuggling down closer against Mr. Callahan's side. "What about the women? Will I be able to tell them apart?"

"I think so," Mr. Callahan laughed. "There's Betsy, who's a very sweet young woman. She wears long dresses and wants to be a teacher when we finally get to California. I think she'd be a great one too. She's very patient. Betsy's got dark hair. Lulu, in contrast, has light hair, always pinned up and curled. She's a saloon dancer, and one of the most outspoken women you'll ever meet."

"Outspoken?" Dusty yawned, "She's not mean, is she?"

"No, not at all," Callahan shook his head. "She's very nice. You'll like her."

"Good," Dusty yawned again, "and then there's you, Mr. Callahan, and there's me, Dusty. Wagon-master and scout."

"That's right, little pal," Mr. Callahan smiled. He didn't think Dusty had remembered anything just yet, but maybe just being reminded who everyone was would help something spark in his mind eventually.

"And Freckles too, my horse, who likes running under low branches," Dusty added.

"Yes," Callahan chuckled, "Freckles too."

"You said I found him," Dusty noted leaning his head against Callahan's chest as the older man put his arm around his scout's shoulders.

"Yes, you did. Completely by accident," Mr. Callahan remembered.

"Wow," Dusty exhaled tiredly. Mr. Callahan could tell he was very near falling asleep. "I found him all by myself?" he asked.

"Yes," Callahan nodded, "and you worked so hard to tame him. We were all so proud of you when you finally got him to listen to you. He still does his own thing sometimes, but I can tell he's got a sort of respect for you. The two of you are really a lot alike. It's hard to tell what either of you is thinking sometimes."

Dusty yawned, "I can't wait to meet him again. I sure hope he still likes me."

"He will, Dusty," the wagon-master assured the younger man. "He couldn't forget you."

Mr. Callahan noticed Dusty's mouth form into a small smile as he lay still and silently against the older man. Even if the kid did take a while to regain his memories, Callahan supposed it wouldn't be so bad. Already Dusty was quite clearly more at ease. He'd been reminded who everyone was, and if he didn't remember it all right away, he'd just have learn more as he went. The important thing was that Dusty hadn't been significantly hurt when he'd fallen off Freckles, and Mr. Callahan had found him, and they were together. Whether Dusty remembered his past or not, he was here now, safely in Mr. Callahan's arms. And the wagon-master couldn't really ask for much more than that.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **This chapter was a bit short, but there are plenty more where this one came from. Thanks to fanfiction user: Teobi, who reviewed my previous chapters, my motivation is back! Now that I know someone is enjoying my story, I'll try to update it more frequently.**_


	5. The Missing Hat

_**Here's the next chapter for all you ghosts out there:**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter5**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _**Storm clouds hung forebodingly overhead as Dusty made his way through the forest. He was trying to get somewhere, but he didn't know where. He just knew he needed to get there soon, before the rain started. Dusty hated storms. He hated thunder, and he hated getting drenched in cold rain. He was pretty sure Freckles didn't like any of that stuff either._

 _Freckles ran faster than usual through the trees. He knew the storm was coming too, and was just as eager as Dusty to get someplace warm, dry, and safe._

 _Dusty held tightly onto the reins as the horse galloped onward. "Come on, Freckles," Dusty urged in a reassuring voice. "Keep going. We'll get there soon." But Dusty didn't know where 'there' was. He couldn't think of where they were going. He just knew they needed to get there._

 _In the past few seconds Dusty was becoming very aware of the string of his hat. He had tightened it under his chin before he and Freckles had set off, to prevent wind from catching under it, but he had tightened it too tight. Now it was digging uncomfortably into the skin under his chin._

 _While he knew he could try to just forget about the hat for a few minutes and focus on riding Freckles to a safe location, the string under his chin was driving him crazy. It seemed now that he'd noticed it, the hat's string wasn't going to allow itself to become un-noticed until Dusty loosened it. Why had he pulled it so tight? Dusty reached up one hand and tried to pull at the string, but it was somehow tangled. He'd need both hands to solve this..._

 _Dusty frowned and looked ahead. It seemed like Freckles knew where they were going... So Dusty let go of the reins, just for a moment, and moved his hands up to loosen the cord strapping his hat to his head. He put his fingers under it and pulled it downward, further than he needed to, but having the thin rope off his skin now felt good. He was just about to re-tighten it a little more, so the wind couldn't knock it off his head as he rode, when he noticed Freckles beginning to go in the wrong direction._

 _"Freckles!" Dusty called out, forgetting his hat for a moment and grabbing at the reins. "You're going the wrong way!"_

 _As Dusty pulled at the horse's reins, he felt his hat lift off his head. Freckles running so fast created enough wind to knock the hat completely off him._

 _With a gasp, Dusty turned and looked over his shoulder. The hat was lying on the ground, but Freckles was still running. They had to go back for it! He loved that hat, but as Freckles ran onward, the hat grew smaller and smaller in the distance, looking so sad lying on the ground all by itself._

 _"Freckles!" Dusty whined as he turned back in time to see a low-hanging branch right in front of him. A second later he felt a sharp pain in his head, felt himself flying through the air, and then knew nothing more...**_

Dusty gasped as he opened his eyes. He found himself in a small cave now. He was lying down on the ground, and his head was propped up in the lap of the man who had found him before, Mr. Callahan. Dusty nodded quietly to himself as he remembered what all the guy had explained to him already, and remembered why they were sleeping in a cave. It had been stormy, and they'd come here to get out of the rain.

Looking out toward the cave's exit, Dusty noted that it wasn't raining anymore. It wasn't dark out anymore either. It was morning. He'd slept through the entire night, lying on the ground... Well, he supposed he was lying against Mr. Callahan too. That probably helped him stay comfortable enough to sleep.

Dusty glanced up at the wagon-master. His eyes were closed and his head hung forward. He noticed the older man's hand lying limply against Dusty's chest. His other hand was on Dusty's shoulder, so that he was sort of holding onto the younger man as though protecting his child. Dusty smiled. This man had claimed he wasn't Dusty's father, but that certainly didn't stop him from acting like he was.

The young man frowned when he remembered more about yesterday. Remembering that he didn't remember made him sad. He had been trying to remember anything about himself, but it wasn't working. All he knew was what Mr. Callahan had reminded him of. He supposed this meant sleeping it off wasn't the answer.

It took him a moment, though, to realize he had remembered something, during his dream. He'd remembered falling off Freckles. Or was it only a dream? It was hard to say whether his dream about Freckles and his hat was a memory or just something he'd made up in his head to try to explain his current situation to himself. After all, Mr. Callahan had told him already that he'd likely fallen off the horse.

Mr. Callahan groaned as he opened his eyes. "Oh, hey Dusty," he smiled down at the other man.

"Hi, Mr. Callahan," Dusty sat himself up so that he was sitting in front of Mr. Callahan.

"You remember anything?" the older man wondered with a yawn.

Dusty frowned, "No... Well, maybe..."

"Maybe?" Callahan's eyes lit up, "What do you mean, little pal? What do you remember?"

Dusty sighed, "I don't know if it was a dream or a memory... or both." He shrunk down a bit. He really didn't want to disappoint Mr. Callahan. Maybe he hadn't remembered anything at all. The older man looked so hopeful...

"Well, what was the dream?" Mr. Callahan wondered, "I know enough about you that I might be able to tell if you dreamed about anything only Dusty would know."

"Okay," Dusty nodded. "Well, I dreamed about Freckles, and about falling off him. I know I could have dreamed it just because you told me it happened though. I was riding him through the trees and the clouds looked scary. We were trying to get somewhere, fast, to get out of the storm that was coming. Then I was messing with my hat and it fell off and I turned around to see where it landed. By the time I turned back, Freckles had run right under a branch and it hit me in the head. Then that's all. I was falling, and that's all."

"What kind of a hat, Dusty?" Mr. Callahan narrowed his eyes.

Dusty laughed. He couldn't see how that mattered, "Like a cowboy hat... With a little string that goes under my chin. The string was too tight. That's why I was messing with it."

"Little pal!" Mr. Callahan exclaimed as he pulled Dusty into a hug. "That's the same hat you always wear! You've remembered something! You wouldn'ta known about that hat if it wasn't a memory!"

"Really?" Dusty smiled and hugged Mr. Callahan back. "Do you think we could go find it? It's on the ground out there somewhere..."

"Of course we can. You love that hat," Mr. Callahan answered. "We can go right now. Then get back to camp and re-introduce you to everyone. Maybe seeing everyone and the wagons and the horses will help you remember something."

"Okay," Dusty smiled. He had remembered something, even if it was something as small as a hat. And soon he was going to see all of the members of their wagon-train. Maybe when he saw them they would spark a memory. He'd probably remember everything before long... Things were looking up.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	6. Old Friends

_**Alright... I've accepted that no one else is gong to review this, so I'm just going to post the last four chapters right now. There's no point in giving people time to read and review each chapter by itself considering I've waited literal months between chapter uploads and no one seemed to care. If you've been reading this as I've uploaded it, know that the whole story would have been uploaded months ago and you wouldn't have had to wait if you'd just reviewed a couple times... One person showed an interest months ago and that was enough to make me continue posting. Now I just want to post it all and get it off my computer for good.**_

 _ **Sorry for being a whiner. I just hate knowing that people are taking the time to read and enjoy my work but aren't willing to take fifteen seconds out of their day to acknowledge it. I'm sure all you other writers understand the feeling... I know this isn't a popular show, but my traffic stats indicate that people have been viewing even the later chapters, so either people are reading or they are seriously just clicking through the chapters for no reason.**_

 _ **Anyway, here's the rest of this stupid story. Have fun clicking through all the chapters and not reading them, like a crazy person.**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter6**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

With his arm slung over Dusty's shoulder, Mr. Callahan led the boy back toward their camp site. They had retrieved Dusty's hat, which he was wearing now, and were finally going to re-introduce Dusty to everyone and see if he remembered any of them.

"Don't be too worried if no one looks familiar," Mr. Callahan assured his friend with a whisper as they neared camp, "I'll explain to them that you hit your head. No one's gonna be mad if you don't recognize them when they understand what happened."

"Okay," Dusty bit his lower lip. Mr. Callahan could tell the younger man was nervous.

"There's no pressure, Dusty. If you don't remember, that's fine. No one's going to be upset with you," Mr. Callahan added.

Dusty nodded and kept walking, being careful not to step too heavily on his injured ankle.

"Mr. Callahan! Dusty!" they heard Andy's worried voice call out before they had even made it up to the wagons. Andy jogged up to them. "We've been worried sick about you two! Freckles ran into camp yesterday during the storm, and you were both missing... What happened? Are you alright?"

"We're fine, Andy," Mr. Callahan promised. "Dusty had a little fall off Freckles, it would seem. He doesn't remember much."

"Oh," Andy looked concerned as he made his way toward Dusty, who inadvertently shrunk down a bit. "What all do you remember, Dusty?"

Dusty looked scared. "Um..." he hesitated, glancing toward Mr. Callahan for a split second before looking back at Andy. "Not a lot... Just my hat..." he spoke in a small voice.

Andy frowned and glanced at Mr. Callahan, who took the liberty to better explain the situation.

"I found him out in the woods yesterday evening. He doesn't remember anything. Not just about how he ended up there, but he doesn't remember anything at all, like who he is, who we are," the wagon-master explained. "Just this morning he remembered he'd lost his hat before Freckles ran him into a low branch. That's what he meant about his hat. He can't recall anything else just yet."

"Oh," Andy nodded in understanding as he looked back toward Dusty. "You're saying he has a form of retrograde amnesia."

"Yeah," Callahan nodded cautiously, "I guess so." He honestly didn't know what 'retrograde' meant. As far as Mr. Callahan understood, amnesia was amnesia. He didn't know there was more than one kind, but he was confident that Andy knew what he was talking about. If the man said Dusty's amnesia was 'retrograde,' then it probably was.

"Well, Dusty," Andy spoke, looking at the younger man with a patient and kind smile, "I'm Andy. It's okay if you don't remember me. I know a bit about medicine and health. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look at you and make sure you're okay."

"I think he sprained his wrist too," Callahan added, "if you want to take a look at that while you're at it."

Andy nodded, "Is that alright, Dusty?"

Dusty glanced up at Callahan, who smiled and offered a reassuring nod. Dusty smiled too when he saw Mr. Callahan smiling. "Okay, Andy," Dusty agreed and allowed Andy to lead him off toward one of the wagons.

Mr. Callahan sighed. He should probably tell the others so Dusty wouldn't have to explain himself four times. Fortunately, all four of them were together, sitting around a camp fire. The Brookhavens, of course, had their own chairs and a table, while Lulu sat on a log and Betsy worked on boiling some water, probably for coffee. It was still early.

"Mr. Callahan," Betsy's voice rang out as the wagon-master approached the group. "Is Dusty with you?" she frowned, looking around Callahan with worry in her features.

"He's with Andy," Mr. Callahan answered. "I don't want any of you to worry, but Dusty has a little case of amnesia."

"Oh no!" Lulu exclaimed, standing up and looking very serious. "What happened?"

"Freckles ran him into a low branch," Mr. Callahan explained.

"Again?" Lulu frowned, her shoulders slumping as she sat back down.

Mr. Callahan offered a dry laugh, "Yes, again. He doesn't remember anything before yesterday. But I think it's going to all come back to him slowly. He already recalled actually falling off the horse. It came back to him in a dream."

"Well, that's a good sign, right?" Betsy smiled a small smile. "It's something at least."

Mr. Callahan nodded, "Yes, Betsy. It is a good sign. If he remembers one thing, he'll probably remember something else before long. We'll have our old Dusty back in no-time. But until then, I just want everyone to be patient with him."

"Of course." Lulu nodded, "Aren't we always?"

Mr. Callahan smiled.

"Dusty does always require a bit of patience, doesn't he?" Mrs. Brookhaven added.

"Quite right, my dear," Mr. Brookhaven agreed.

"Well, Andy's patching him up right now. He sprained his wrist when he fell, but he's more or less okay. I figure he might start remembering more now that he's back here with everyone. If we all just go about things mostly like usual, maybe it'll spark a memory for him," Callahan suggested.

"Maybe we should try to bring up things from his past," Lulu offered. "Like, remind him of things that already happened."

"I could read to him from one of the children's books I brought," Betsy offered.

Mr. Callahan narrowed his eyes in confusion, "Oh, because he might have read them as a child? I don't know if helping him remember his childhood that far back matters so much as getting him to remember more recent events."

"No," Betsy shook her head. "Remember when we first got separated from the wagon train? He was upset, because he felt like it was all his fault, and he was scared of bears and mountain lions. He couldn't sleep, so I read him some stories those first few nights."

"Oh," Mr. Callahan closed his eyes and shook his head. He had forgotten about that. "Well, I think that's an excellent idea, Betsy. Reading him the same stories might trigger a memory of the actual nights you first read them to him."

Betsy smiled, "We'll have him remembering in no-time."

"I think you're right, Betsy," Mr. Callahan grinned. With the help of everyone in their group, Dusty would have his memories back in no time at all.

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	7. The Dance

_**This is one of my favorite chapters. Lulu is my third favorite character, after Dusty and Mr. Callahan, of course, and she plays a large part in this one, so fans of Lulu will hopefully enjoy this chapter...**_

 _ **Enjoy, ghosts:**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter7**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

"Hey, Freckles," Dusty patted the speckled horse as he fed it an apple, "I forgive you for running me into that branch. I know it was probably more my fault than yours."

The horse looked at him, but of course said nothing, as horses rarely do say anything back when someone tries to engage them in conversation.

"I wish you'd look out for me a little better though. I wouldn't run you into a branch," Dusty frowned.

The horse continued crunching the apple Dusty had given to him as he looked at Dusty with his huge, brown eyes.

"I know it's not your fault though," Dusty spoke again. "I really shouldn't blame you. Like Mr. Callahan said, I should pay more attention. You're a really good horse, Freckles," he patted the horse again. "I know I don't really remember much about you, but I can tell you're special."

"Dusty!"

Dusty turned and looked up when he heard a woman's voice, in time to see a blonde young lady walking up to him. He narrowed his eyes and looked her over. She had blonde hair, pinned up and curled, and was wearing a frilly dancing dress, "Lulu?" he guessed.

"Very good, Dusty!" she grinned, "I want to show you something."

"Okay," Dusty agreed, "what is it?"

"It's a dance," she grinned.

"Okay," Dusty sat down on a nearby rock and looked up at her. "Go ahead."

"No, silly," Lulu reached over and grabbed his uninjured hand, pulling him to his feet. "I'm going to teach you how to do it too. We're both going to dance."

"Oh," Dusty hesitated. Did he know how to dance? Judging by what he was told about himself, he seemed rather uncoordinated.

"It's easy, Dusty," Lulu assured him. "I taught this to you once before. I figured maybe if we run through it again, you might remember something."

"Oh," Dusty smiled. "I see what you're doing. Yeah!" If she'd showed him the same dance once, maybe learning it again could remind him of the first time. He could remember something else, and he'd be closer to his old self again. "Well, I hope this works, Lulu. I'm really starting to get frustrated not remembering anything..."

Lulu nodded and offered a sympathetic smile, "It certainly sounds awfully frustrating, Dusty. Hopefully this'll help. Now, stand here, next to me." She tugged at his arm and positioned him next to herself, "It's kind of a line dance, mixed with a little something of my own. I made it up."

Dusty smiled, "Wow. You made up a whole dance?"

"Sure did," she grinned. "Put your hands on your hips, like this," she instructed, while performing the action herself as an example. "This dance works around the number three. That is, counting to three as you move will help you with timing," she explained.

Dusty nodded and watched carefully, mimicking Lulu's gestures and movements as she moved this way and that. They both counted aloud to three over and over as they went until they had gone through the whole dance.

"Ring any bells?" Lulu wondered.

Dusty shrugged. "No... But it was fun anyway," he smiled.

Lulu grinned too and squeezed Dusty's arm, "Well, you're right about that. Even if you didn't remember anything new, it was still fun dancing together."

"Yeah," Dusty laughed, "and it's a really neat dance too! You made it up all on your own. That's impressive, Lulu."

"Well, thank you, Dusty," Lulu beamed.

Dusty frowned as he almost felt like he was remembering something. He felt like he'd done this dance before... And he knew he had. Lulu had said she'd taught him the dance once already. But what was he remembering? Something about performing it in front of an audience. He had been so nervous. Was it a real memory though? Or was his mind just making it up since he already knew he was supposed to remember something about it?

"You alright, Dusty?" Lulu cocked her head to the side and looked into his eyes.

Dusty looked at her, "Did we do this dance in front of an audience?"

Lulu's eyes lit up as a huge smile spread across her face, "You tell me..."

"I think we did," Dusty nodded, "at a saloon... We needed money for something, so you and I took jobs as dancers..." Dusty frowned as he remembered another small detail, "You made me wear a dress..."

Lulu laughed a very loud laugh, "Dusty, you remember! It was just me and you. We'd ridden a few days ahead of the others without the wagons, so we'd be faster, because Betsy, Andy, and Mr. Callahan were sick with some kind of a flu and we had to find a town with the medicine they needed. We ended up stranded in this town during a storm. We needed money for a hotel, because otherwise we'd have had to sleep in the rain, but we hadn't brought enough money for the medicine AND a hotel. It wasn't supposed to rain. We didn't count on needing to sleep indoors, so we were seemingly out of luck."

"Yeah," Dusty nodded as the memories came back to him, "and they needed dancing girls at the saloon... And they'd only pay you half of what we needed for the hotel room, so you told them you had a friend who'd dance too... And that friend was me."

"That's right," Lulu laughed. "That was so fun, wasn't it?"

"Well, let's just say I was lucky you'd already taught me the dance," Dusty sighed. He really wasn't a fan of wearing dresses. It seemed like every time someone had to put on a dress for any ridiculous reason, it was always him. He gasped as he realized this was dragging up other memories along with it. These memories were very fuzzy, and he didn't know who else was involved in them, but he knew he'd been forced to wear a dress, more than just once. "That wasn't the only time you guys made me wear a dress! You do it all the time!" He noted with an accusatory tone.

"Well," Lulu frowned, "I wouldn't say ALL the time."

"We all get into weird sorts of trouble a lot, don't we?" Dusty wondered.

Lulu smiled, "Yeah, we do... But we always get right back out of it."

"Oh, wow," Dusty sighed again, remembering dancing in front of that audience, "I can't believe I did that... Dancing in front of a crowd."

"You were great, Dusty," Lulu put her arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. "I even had to be pretty harsh to a couple of men afterwards, who really liked your dancing. I'm used to it by now, having to tell men to back off. You didn't know what to do when they approached you."

"Yeah," Dusty nodded as he remembered, "and you were really mean to them."

"Sometimes you gotta be," Lulu shrugged.

Dusty put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her back. "Thanks, Lulu," he grinned. "I honestly didn't think I'd remember anything just by dancing, but you've been real helpful."

"Well, you're quite welcome, Dusty," Lulu squeezed her arm around his shoulders. "It won't be long now before you remember everything you've forgotten."

"Yeah," Dusty smiled. He hoped that was true, and for the first time since waking up on the forest floor, he was actually beginning to feel truly optimistic. Maybe he really could remember his life...

 _ **xxxxxx**_


	8. Betsy's Story

_**xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter8**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

Mr. Callahan observed Dusty as the group sat around their camp fire that night after dinner. The young scout was sitting on a log next to Lulu, who whispered something into his ear. They both laughed quietly.

The boy seemed to be talking to Lulu more than any of the others, and Callahan wasn't surprised at all, considering they had told him earlier that Dusty had remembered an event that only the two of them had been present for. He remembered something about her, so naturally he felt like he knew her best, and at the moment, he did know her best. He couldn't remember any memories involving the others.

While Callahan was happy that Dusty was regaining his memories, he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous that those memories didn't involve him. At the moment, Dusty only remembered a bit about Lulu, and a bit about Freckles.

"Dusty, maybe this will refresh your memories, lad," Mr. Brookhaven offered, pulling a crisp, one hundred dollar bill out of his wallet. "You remember money, right? It's lovely, isn't it? Just beautiful."

Mr. Callahan shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I do remember money," Dusty nodded. "For some reason I feel like I never had that much though."

"I knew that would work. No man can forget the beauty of cold, hard cash," Mr. Brookhaven grinned and placed the bill carefully back in his wallet.

"You're so helpful, dear," Mrs. Callahan leaned her head against her husband's shoulder.

"Dusty, when you go to bed tonight, I want you to try to keep your wrist elevated. Just keeping it on your chest should do fine," Andy instructed, "so long as you sleep on your back, that is."

The kid nodded. Andy had wrapped his wrist in actual bandages after they had returned to camp. He'd also put a small bandage over the cut on Dusty's forehead, even though it had stopped bleeding some time before.

"And don't fall asleep before I read you that story I told you about," Betsy added.

Mr. Callahan hoped all of these requests weren't too overwhelming for the boy. Ever since he'd gotten back, everyone had been approaching him with various anecdotes and memories, each trying their best to help him remember something.

Dusty stretched his arms out and yawned. "Is it almost bed-time?" he wondered. "I know it's still early, but I feel really tired."

"Naturally," Andy spoke. "You're had a very busy day, trying to remember basically your whole life up until this point. That must be exhausting."

"Well, I haven't remembered much though," Dusty frowned.

"But you're getting there," Andy nodded, "and even just trying to reach back into your memories and not recalling anything is likely draining your energy. That, and you and Lulu were over there by the horses dancing for probably an hour," he added with a laugh.

The others laughed as well and Lulu hugged Dusty's shoulders playfully. "He's a great dancer," she laughed.

Dusty looked down as though embarrassed, "I didn't know anyone else was watching."

"Don't be embarrassed, little pal," Mr. Callahan finally spoke up. "That dance helped you remember something about yourself, and about Lulu. I'd say that's pretty valuable."

"Yeah," Dusty agreed with a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Callahan. You're right."

Callahan glanced over to the Brookhavens as Mrs. Brookhaven yawned delicately behind her hand. "I'm quite ready for bed, I think," she spoke.

"As am I, my dear," Mr. Brookhaven stood, "I'll show you some more money tomorrow, Dusty lad," he offered before following his wife toward their sleeping quarters, "good night, everyone."

"Night," Mr. Callahan called after him.

"I should be heading to bed too," Andy stood. "I'll look at your wrist again in the morning, Dusty, just to make sure it's healing normally."

"Okay," Dusty nodded as Andy headed off to bed.

Lulu stood and stretched her arms out in front of her. "I'm glad you're starting to remember some stuff, Dusty," she reached out and patted his cheek lightly. "Betsy," she turned toward the other woman, "I"ll see you back at the wagon in a few. Good night, Mr. Callahan," she added.

"Night, Lulu," Callahan smiled as he watched her head off toward her wagon.

"See you in a while, Lulu," Betsy called after her. "Dusty, you ready for that story?"

Dusty nodded.

"Let's get your bed set up, little pal," Mr. Callahan offered. Dusty didn't remember his usual sleeping conditions. Callahan made a makeshift pillow for the boy and spread a blanket out over the ground near the fire. "Go ahead and lie down, Dusty," he offered.

Dusty positioned himself on top of the blanket and Mr. Callahan draped another blanket on top of him, tucking it around his shoulders and patting him on the head lightly. "Sleep well, Dusty," he smiled down at the boy.

"Good night, Mr. Callahan," Dusty called after him as the older man made his own bed only a foot or so away from his young friend.

Mr. Callahan settled down on the ground, turning over onto his side and closing his eyes as he listened to Betsy begin to read to Dusty.

"Long, long ago, in a kingdom on an island, there lived a happy little prince," Betsy began.

Callahan smiled as he listened to the ridiculous story. He recalled the night they'd gotten separated from the wagon-train. Dusty had blamed himself, and the boy hadn't been entirely wrong to do so. No one was exceptionally angry with him when it happened. It had been an honest mistake, after all. Nevertheless, it was clear he felt extremely guilty for getting the group lost from the long line of wagons making their way west.

He'd sulked and had seemed lost in his own thoughts, often not even responding when Mr. Callahan asked him a question. The first night, he hadn't been able to sleep. Callahan recalled hearing him turning over under his blanket over and over again throughout the night, groaning occasionally in frustration with himself as his racing mind refused to let him sleep, and his constant fidgeting refused to let Callahan sleep. It wasn't until Betsy came out of her wagon with the story book and began reading to him that he finally settled down and held still long enough to allow himself to fall asleep.

"The prince spent his days exploring the island and having fun, doing things he loved, like catching butterflies and going fishing. The little prince loved bananas, and the island had as many as he could ever ask for," Betsy continued.

Callahan turned over so he could see Dusty, who was snuggling down into his blanket and smiling as Betsy continued with her story.

"But also on the island was a king, who didn't like bananas, and didn't really like catching butterflies or fishing either," Betsy's tone became more serious. She seemed like she'd do very well reading to children. Callahan hoped she'd become a teacher when they made it to California. She'd be so good at it. "The king wanted off the island, and his royal-advisor was always trying to help him find a way to make that happen."

Dusty opened his eyes and looked up at Betsy. "Why didn't the king like it on the island? It sounds like a really nice place," he frowned.

"Shh," Betsy frowned. "Listen to the story, Dusty."

"Oh, sorry," Dusty snapped his mouth shut and lay quietly.

"That's okay, Dusty," Betsy looked back at her book, squinting as the fire offered her very little light to see its pages, "now, where was I... Oh, here we are... The prince and his king hadn't always lived on the island. In fact, they'd been shipwrecked there. The king was eager to return home, and while the prince would have liked to return too, in a way, to see his mother again, and to get back to his old life, he saw life on the island as a fun adventure."

Dusty yawned and closed his eyes.

"When the king, prince, and their royal subjects had taken their ship out in an unpredicted storm, the prince, trying his best to help, had accidentally thrown the anchor off the side of the ship without securing the line to the boat first," Betsy read onward, "but no one blamed him for getting them stranded on the island. It was really the storm's fault."

Mr. Callahan felt his own eyelids growing heavy as he listened to the story. He was exhausted, as he hadn't slept well the previous night. He'd been too worried about Dusty. As his eyes fluttered closed, he noticed Dusty frowning as he continued to listen to Betsy's story. Hopefully the kid would listen to the story long enough to hear its happy ending.

Ordinarily, he would have stayed up long enough to make sure Dusty wasn't really upset by the story. But he was so tired. Surely as long as the kid kept listening, he'd hear the rest of the story, and would see that the little prince, the king, and their subjects ended up having a lot of fun on that island. He knew Dusty would love the story in the end. He had before at least.

Yawning, Mr. Callahan allowed his eyes to close completely as sleep took him.

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Yes, Betsy's story is a Gilligan's Island reference.**_


	9. Like a Father

_**Last chapter. Enjoy, malicious spirits:**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **Chapter9**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

"Mr. Callahan," Dusty whispered as he crawled out from under his blanket and over to the older man. He shook the wagon-master by his shoulder and whispered again, "Mr. Callahan?"

The older man groaned as he opened his eyes, "What is it, Dusty?"

Dusty frowned. After Betsy had finished reading him the story, she'd asked him if it had sparked any memories for him. He had lied, faked a smile, and waited until she went off to bed. But now he couldn't sleep. He had been so exhausted before, but his mind was racing now.

He did remember Betsy's story. He remembered it because the first time she'd read it to him, he found that it sounded an awful lot like his own life. The little prince in the story had messed up and had gotten all his friends ship-wrecked. And Dusty, back when she had first read him the story, had just messed up and gotten all of his friends lost.

Even when Betsy continued the story and read the whole thing, and when Dusty heard that the characters in the story were happy, he couldn't forget that he was the reason all of his friends were lost from their wagon train now. Could he draw parallels to the story and real life in that way too? Were his friends happy? Or did they feel dreadful about being lost? Being lost in the west wasn't as fun as being shipwrecked on a beautiful island. They all probably hated him.

Dusty shrunk back toward his blanket. Maybe he shouldn't bother Mr. Callahan about this right now. When he'd asked the older man before how they'd ended up getting lost, Mr. Callahan had dodged the question. He could have told Dusty that it was all his fault, but he hadn't.

"Dusty?" Mr. Callahan was sitting up now. It was too late for the younger man to just go back to sleep. The wagon-master was staring right at him, and must have seen that his friend was upset, "What's wrong, little pal?" Mr. Callahan frowned.

Biting his lip and trying to stop the tears that were coming to his eyes, Dusty looked down at the ground, "Why didn't you tell me I'm the one who got us lost?"

Mr. Callahan shook his head. "You remember that, Dusty?" he wondered.

Dusty nodded, "Just like the story... Only I'm not a little prince, and you're not a king... And we're not on an island, and we're not happy," he frowned.

"You're not happy?" Mr. Callahan frowned, putting his fingers under Dusty's chin and tilting his head up so he could see into his eyes.

Dusty pouted as he blinked back tears and shrugged. "I got us all lost," he reminded the older man.

"You didn't get us lost on purpose, little pal," Mr. Callahan assured him, "and we're still headed west. We'll get there. It just might take longer. I don't know if I'd say anyone here is unhappy... This is a strange sort of adventure. I'd think you of all people would be having fun exploring the land like this."

"It is fun," Dusty admitted. As soon as he had recalled that he had been the one to get them lost, his other memories followed close behind. He'd remembered getting into various sorts of trouble. He remembered finding Freckles and having some men mistake him for a horse thief. He remembered running into various tribes of natives, and finding a treasure map, but it wasn't to a real treasure. It was to a town called 'Treasure.' They'd had all sorts of strange adventures. Some were fun, some were scary, but they all made interesting stories, and he was glad to have been a part of them. They were his adventures, and he loved adventures. But did the others feel the same way?

"Why are you upset then, little pal?" Mr. Callahan frowned. Dusty must have still looked worried.

"Well, I think exploring is fun, but what about you? What about the others?" Dusty wondered, "Are they unhappy out here? Are you?"

"I'm perfectly happy," Mr. Callahan assured him, "and did you even pay attention to the others tonight? Did any one of them seem the least bit miserable or upset? We're all happy."

"Are you sure?" Dusty frowned, "I just kind of feel like I've been a big nuisance this whole time. Nothing ever works out right, and it's always my fault."

"Nothing works out as planned, but that doesn't mean it doesn't work out right," Mr. Callahan rephrased. "Plans fall through all the time. Things work out differently than expected, but they always work out favorably in the end."

"So the others aren't annoyed by me messing things up?" Dusty wondered.

"Never, Dusty," Mr. Callahan frowned as he leaned against the large log next to their blankets and gestured for the younger man to join him. "Do you remember what I said before about us becoming a sort of family over these past months?"

"Yeah," Dusty nodded as he crawled over to the log and leaned his back against it.

"Well, it's true," Mr. Callahan assured him, "and if you think anyone here doesn't like you, or thinks you're annoying, you haven't been paying much attention. Each and every person here loves you, Dusty, like a son, or a brother, or a friend. No matter, they love you, and couldn't be angry with you if they tried."

"Really?" Dusty wasn't so sure he believed that. How could they not be angry with him for getting them lost, and for screwing up everything else since then? Because of him, they were all put in so much danger all the time. If he hadn't gotten the group lost, they'd be safe with all the other wagons.

"Sure," Mr. Callahan nodded. "Didn't Andy mend your wrist and bandage your forehead? Would he have done that if he didn't care about you?"

"I guess you're probably right," Dusty agreed, "about Andy at least. But what about Mr. and Mrs. Brookhaven? They like rich things. They'd never want to be out here longer than they have to, but I messed everything up, and now they're stuck out here."

"I don't know if they'd ever admit this, but I think they appreciate that you got us lost," Mr. Callahan noted.

Dusty shook his head, "They couldn't..."

"Oh, yes they could," Mr. Callahan countered. "Like you said, they'd never come out here on their own... You're the reason they're having this wild adventure, which they never would have taken part in if no one forced their hand. You've given them an opportunity they'd never have given themselves."

Dusty nodded. He could see a bit of sense in that, and the elderly couple did seem happy a lot of the time. They must have been enjoying this excursion more than they'd ever admit.

"And you should have seen the way Betsy and Lulu were smiling at you, Dusty," Mr. Callahan reminded him. "They love you like a brother. I can tell. Would anyone who was angry with you or annoyed by you stay up late to read you a story or teach you a dance? They had no obligation to do those things."

"Yeah, I think you're right, Mr. Callahan." Dusty smiled, "And you said you loved me like a son."

"Yes," Mr. Callahan agreed. "I certainly did say that. And I meant it one hundred percent."

"You know what, Mr. Callahan?" Dusty asked.

"What, little pal?" Mr. Callahan put his arm around Dusty's shoulders.

Dusty leaned against him and smiled. "Before, in the cave, I asked you if I loved you like a father," he remembered, "and you said only I would know the answer to that."

"Yeah," Mr. Callahan nodded, "I recall that conversation."

"Well, at the time, I didn't really remember," Dusty continued, "I wanted to think I loved you like a father, but I couldn't remember my relationships with anyone. I didn't know how I felt about you. I only knew I was grateful that you found me and were taking care of me, even though I didn't remember who you were."

"I was glad to do it, Dusty," Mr. Callahan hugged him around his shoulders, "whether you remember who I am or not, I'll always be there to take care of you if you need it, little pal."

"I remember now," Dusty noted. "I remember all the adventures we've had, and all the times you kept me from getting into more trouble than I was already in, and all the times you got me out of trouble, or protected me."

Mr. Callahan smiled, "that's what I'm here for, Dusty."

"And I know now, the answer to my question," Dusty said, "about if I love you like a father. I do, Mr. Callahan."

"Well, I'm glad you hear it, little pal," Mr. Callahan hugged him closer.

Dusty smiled as he leaned against his friend and closed his eyes. Not remembering anything had been scary. Remembering all of his flaws had been equally scary. But he felt very secure now. What Mr. Callahan had said before was true. The whole group of them were a little family, maybe not biologically related, but a family nonetheless.

These people who had started out as perfect strangers to him weren't anymore, and they never would be again. Maybe it was Dusty's fault that they all got lost, but that meant it was also Dusty's fault that they'd grown so close. He'd made a mistake and got them separated from the wagon train, but that same mistake turned them into a family.

He'd gained an older brother in Andy, parental figures in Mr. Callahan and the Brookhavens, and sisters in Lulu and Betsy. And that certainly didn't sound like something he could call a mistake...

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **The End**_

 _ **xxxxxx**_

 _ **So there you have it, my itty bitty little Dusty's Trail story. I hope you liked it. I tried to include everyone, if only just a little. This story was really mostly about Dusty and Mr. Callahan anyway.**_


End file.
